


we're gonna have a good time

by jessalae



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Gangbang, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 05:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessalae/pseuds/jessalae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“TMZ has enough fun spreading rumors about just the two of us; just think of all the trouble they could cause if they knew I’d invited over all your superhero friends to fuck you until you scream.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're gonna have a good time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the May 2012 mini-challenge on kink_bingo, for [this prompt](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/412590.html?thread=3329198#cmt3329198), and because how could I _not_ write this gangbang? Title taken from "Birthday" by The Beatles.

As usual, Tony suspects absolutely nothing until it’s already too late.

Well, no, “too late” definitely sounds way too dire for this situation. He’s not under attack or anything, the world isn’t in danger, and he could still back out if he wanted to (not fucking likely). But it does annoy him just a bit that he had no clue what was happening until it was, well, happening. He could have had days, maybe even weeks, of delicious, delicious anticipation, built up some awesome fantasies, planned and re-planned and played out the whole thing in his head, if only he had figured out what Pepper was up to.

But really, who the hell expects their (wonderful, amazing, too perfect for words) girlfriend to understand how much they actually _meant_ it when they said they wanted a gangbang for their birthday?

Pepper is smirking, leaning oh-so-casually against the kitchen counter, and after what she’s just told him about her plans for the evening there’s nothing Tony can do but kiss her. She laughs against his mouth, hands settling lightly on his shoulders, smoothing over his t-shirt.

“Thank you,” he says when his brain has composed itself enough to form words. “You are the best, the _best_ , I don’t know— I can’t even, how awesome you are, I mean, I should build you a _monument_ , call it the monument of awesome girlfriends—“

“That’s probably more publicity than this little party needs,” Pepper says. “TMZ has enough fun spreading rumors about just the two of us; just think of all the trouble they could cause if they knew I’d invited over all your superhero friends to fuck you until you scream.”

Tony has to kiss her again, just until that mental image clears his system, but before he’s recovered his powers of speech the doorbell rings. Pepper slips away from him, walking calmly over to answer it.

“Steve, hi,” she says from the entryway, and Tony relaxes a little, because Steve’s joined them in bed a few times before — and every time had been a night to remember, hoo boy. If anyone besides Steve had been the first to arrive (which, realistically, was never going to happen: Steve is allergic to being late, or something, always had to show up five minutes early and ten times more prepared than anyone else), things could’ve gotten awkward fast, but Tony can deal with seeing Steve first. Steve is a known entity.

Except he’s holding a bouquet of flowers, for some reason, which is just weird.

“Planning on wooing me before you take me to your bed?” Tony asks, his mouth running away from him as usual. “Or _my_ bed, technically — although I’m not totally sure the frame is going to support — Pepper, where are we doing this?”

“In the upstairs lounge,” she answers. “I got the whole thing set up while you were down in the workshop earlier, don’t worry about it.”

“The flowers are for Pepper, actually,” Steve says, finally managing to get a word in edgewise. “For being kind enough to invite me.” He hands her the bouquet, smiling warmly, then directs his attention back to Tony. “For you, I brought something else.”

What? Steve has a shit-eating grin on his face, what does he— oh, no, seriously? He wouldn’t, would he? “Yeah? Where is it?” Tony asks, feeding Steve the line just to see if he’s actually going to take the bait.

Steve’s grin widens. “In my pants.”

Oh, jeez, of course he would. “Steve, dude, we have got to work on your pick-up lines,” Tony says as the doorbell rings again. “I know you’re probably really proud of that one, but you are not actually eleven years old, you’re going to have to step up your game if you want anyone who wasn’t already planning on sleeping with you to say yes—oh my god, Pepper, you got _Banner_ to come?”

Bruce holds up a hand. “As an observer only, unfortunately,” he says. “At least until I’m sure the other guy isn’t going to be making a surprise appearance.”

“Good plan,” Tony says, wincing. “Still, glad you could make it. And hey, watching can be fun too, right?”

“I’ll be rating you all on form and creativity,” Bruce says, totally deadpan. “I’ve come up with an eight-point scoring system, it should work nicely for something with this level of complexity.”

“Discrete or continuous scale?”

“Logarithmic, actually.”

“You’ll have to explain it to me afterwards.”

“I’ll send you my spreadsheets.”

“Enough shop talk, boys, you’re scaring the non-scientists in attendance,” Pepper says. Steve looks at her gratefully. “Why don’t we break out the pizza?”

They talk about other things while they eat. Tony’s not really sure _what_ , because his mind is all over the damn place, zooming around between wondering who’s going to walk through the door next and what kind of setup Pepper’s worked out upstairs and is Bruce actually going to just watch him have sex with the rest of the team, there’s got to be a way to get him involved safely and where does Steve _get_ these awful plaid shirts, maybe Tony should rip this one off of him but no, he’d probably just collect up all the buttons to sew them back on and be annoyed at Tony for the rest of the night. He’s so absorbed in his various thought processes that he doesn’t even notice Pepper getting up to answer the door again until Clint is sitting down next to him and grabbing the piece of pizza Tony had his eye on.

“Evening, Stark,” he says. “Happy to see me?”

“Nah, just got a screwdriver in my pocket,” Tony says nonchalantly, and then realizes with an internal wince that hey, he actually does. He sets it on the table, because they might as well get the awkwardness out of the way up front, and everyone just stares at it for a second. “Okay look, I swear to god I didn’t plan that, I had no idea any of this was happening until like twenty minutes ago—“

“And you were getting on _my_ case about pickup lines?” Steve mutters.

“Tony,” Pepper says reproachfully. “I told you to leave everything down in the workshop.”

“And I was going to, but then I remembered that the vent cover in the shower has been rattling for a week now, and I only ever think about fixing it when I’m actually _in the shower_ and have no screwdrivers nearby, so I thought I might as well take two seconds and—“ Tony looks at Pepper’s raised eyebrows and senses that his logic is not being followed. “Look, if I had known about your plans, then trust me, I would have left the damn thing in the workshop to avoid accidentally making any truly awful boner jokes—“

“If you’d known about her plans you’d have kept the screwdriver in your pocket and spent your time in the shower coming up with even worse boner jokes,” Natasha says, and jesus fuck when the hell did she get here? Did she come in with Clint? Tony hadn’t even noticed. She’s lounging against the bar, face impassive as usual, and there’s a small, hard-sided rolling suitcase sitting at her feet.

“Possibly,” Tony concedes. “What’s in the box?”

“Nothing Pepper doesn’t have an ample supply of, I’m sure,” Natasha says. “But I like to play with my own toys.”

Bruce lets out a low whistle, and Natasha just looks at him. He shrinks back into his seat, suddenly very absorbed in his pizza. Tony finds the exchange weirdly arousing.

Thor arrives nearly an hour late, but makes up for his tardiness with twice the required amount of enthusiasm. “Tony!” he booms, striding into the kitchen and pulling Tony into a bone-crushing hug, lifting his feet completely off the floor. “To a joyous anniversary of your birth, my friend!”

“Thanks, big guy,” Tony says, when Thor puts him down and he can breathe again. He claps Thor on the shoulder, then his eyes drift downward, and his brain helpfully replays the words ‘big guy’ for him. “Oh, boy,” he says softly.

Pepper stands up, wiping the pizza grease off her hands. “Now that we’re all here, how about we go over the ground rules? Thor, you can eat while I talk if you want some pizza.”

Tony listens to her while she talks about condoms, safewords, etiquette, all that good stuff, and the details don’t really matter because it’s all _perfect_. She really is a fucking genius, that woman, has everything set up just the way she knows he likes it but _also_ the way that’s going to make it work for the rest of the group, and that is some impressive logistics-wrangling right there. She finishes with a brisk “Any questions?” and the team glances around at each other, shaking their heads no.

“All right,” Tony says, abandoning his last bite of pizza on his plate as he stands. He throws his hands out to the sides, grinning theatrically. “It’s my birthday! Everybody fuck me!”

They move to the upstairs lounge, and Tony is once again struck by the absolute, breathtaking genius of his girlfriend. She’s cleared almost all the furniture out of the middle of the room to make space for an enormous square mattress, which is surrounded by pillows and cushions and, on one side, a couch. The coffee table, set up within easy reach of the play area, holds Pepper’s (frankly impressive) strap-on collection, a few bottles of lube, and boxes of condoms in a variety of sizes. Tony just stands at the edge of the room for a second, taking it all in, then steps up behind Pepper and grabs her around the waist, kissing the side of her neck.

“You are so good to me, it’s really incredible,” he murmurs against her skin, then looks up at his teammates. “How amazing is my girlfriend, guys, seriously, this is the best idea ever—“

“Can’t make a call on that until I’ve sampled the goods,” Clint says pointedly, and leans over Pepper’s shoulder to kiss Tony, hard and fast and with plenty of teeth. Tony hums happily into Clint’s mouth, moving one hand from Pepper’s waist to the back of Clint’s neck and running his fingers through Clint’s hair (as much as one could run one’s fingers through a military buzz cut, those assholes left absolutely nothing to hold on to, which was probably the point). Clint kisses like it’s a battle, every second a struggle over whose tongue is going to conquer the most territory, and he tastes like the pizza they were just eating (which Tony probably does too, so whatever). After a moment, Pepper slips smoothly out from between them, and Tony misses her warmth and the curve of her body until Clint pulls Tony against him, hard. There’s a whole different kind of warmth in the way Clint deepens the kiss, and Tony’s so into it that he almost misses the squeeze Pepper gives his hand before she disappears somewhere off to the side.

Clint breaks the kiss, breathing hard. “Okay,” he says firmly. “This is gonna be good.”

“Damn straight,” Tony says, trying to pretend like he isn't just as out of breath. “Honestly, Barton, did you ever think it wasn’t—“

“Enough words,” Thor rumbles in Tony’s ear, and then he’s spinning Tony around and picking him up ( _again_ , what is it with this guy) and kissing him like the sky is falling. Tony wraps his legs around Thor’s waist and holds on for dear life, rocking his hips a little against the taut muscle of Thor’s stomach. Thor makes a noise deep in his chest and starts walking, and Tony doesn’t really care where they’re going, to be honest, as long as Thor’s abs stay right where they are. 

Thor deposits Tony on his back on the mattress, kissing him all the while, huge, hot hands sliding up under Tony’s t-shirt. Tony feels wonderfully covered, surrounded, and it’s possible that he whimpers when Thor pulls away. The rest of the team quickly closes in, though, taking up positions all around him, and Tony stretches out lazily against the mattress, licking his lips in anticipation.

Steve ends up by his head, getting a hand under Tony’s shoulders and shoving Tony up until Steve can scoot in behind him, position himself like the most arousing backrest in the world, and pull Tony’s t-shirt off. Tony settles back against Steve’s chest and only then realizes that Steve is naked — when did that happen? Oh well, nothing to complain about, since Steve’s skin is smooth and warm and his dick is getting hard against the small of Tony’s back. Steve grabs Tony’s chin and turns Tony’s head for a kiss, sweet and slow and so very delicious that Tony only registers that someone is taking his pants off when there’s an insistent tug on his waistband. He lifts his hips obediently, and a rush of cool air hits his skin, making him gasp a little against Steve’s lips.

“That’s right,” Clint says from somewhere in front of him. “Let’s get you laid out for everybody to see, open you up a little—“

“Pepper, could you toss me the lube?” Oh god that’s Natasha’s voice, Natasha is going to finger him, this Tony’s gotta see. He breaks away from Steve’s mouth for a second, changes his mind and kisses him again, pulls back again reluctantly. Steve laughs and kisses the corner of Tony’s mouth.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, turning Tony’s head back to the front. “Watch.”

Natasha’s down to a pair of tight black booty shorts and a black tank top, and she’s kneeling in front of him, methodically slicking up four fingers. Tony lets out a gasp and spreads his legs wider, basically involuntarily. Natasha presses her index finger right against his entrance, precise as always, and _smirks_.

“Ready, Stark?”

“Oh, so ready,” Tony breathes, and then hisses through his teeth as her finger pushes into him. Steve’s arms come up around his chest, holding him steady. Natasha works quickly and methodically, and something about the professional tone to her movements (and, obviously, the fact that she’s got a finger slowly fucking in and out of his ass) makes Tony’s dick unbelievably hard. She’s oh so thorough as she opens him up, and he’s sure she knows exactly where his prostate is but is studiously avoiding it. Objectively speaking, her understands her reasoning — this is just the prequel, shouldn’t get him too worked up before the main attraction, because he’s got a lot of cock to take before the night is out — but it doesn’t make the lack of prostate goodness any less frustrating. He squirms, bucking his hips to try and get her fingers (two of them now) to hit the right spot.

Clint’s hand clamps down hard on his hip, holding him against the mattress. “Did we say you could move?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “No, but—“

“Then don’t move.” Clint’s voice is low and dangerous.

So that’s how they’re doing this. Tony sucks in a breath to respond, maybe try and provoke Clint enough to earn himself some punishment, but Steve’s hand curls around his body, stroking up his chest to trace the curve of the arc reactor. “Just wait,” Steve whispers in his ear. “It’s going to be so good, Tony, I promise, you just have to wait.” Tony shudders, and then Steve’s fingers brush his nipple and he shudders harder.

“Indeed,” Thor murmurs — he’s stretched out on the cushions on Tony’s right, naked from the waist up, and hot damn those abs look just as good as they felt against his dick. “Patience is a virtue, my friend.”

“Have I ever given you the impression that I’m particularly virtuous?” Tony raises an eyebrow, going for skeptical, but just then Steve takes his nipple and rolls it between his fingers and Tony ends up open-mouthed and gasping.

Thor laughs. “Never, really,” he says, and leans over to run his fingers over Tony’s chest. “But there is always time to learn.” He thumbs the nipple that Steve isn’t working on, surprisingly gentle, and Tony groans, letting his head fall back against Steve’s chest.

He stays like that, blissed out and basking in the sensation of Steve and Thor teasing his nipples, of three of Natasha’s fingers carefully stretching him, for what feels like an eternity. Finally the sounds of a whispered argument drift through the building haze of pleasure, and he devotes a corner of his brain to listening instead of just feeling.

“Come on, Natasha, he’s ready.” Clint sounds almost desperate, his breath coming fast.

“He’s got a lot to take, Barton.” Natasha, in contrast, is perfectly calm. “You saw when Steve took his pants off — and I know you peeked in my toy box, you know what I’ve got in there.”

“I’m a regular-sized guy, though,” Clint wheedles. “He can totally take me now, I’ll stretch him out the rest of the way for you—“

Tony’s eyes fly open. “Yes,” he breathes. “That, let’s do that.” Clint grins at him, all sharp edges.

Natasha sighs and withdraws her fingers. “Fine,” she says. “But I’m next.”

“No objections there,” Clint says, taking the condom that someone passes to him over Tony’s head and rolling it on. Tony cranes his neck to look behind himself, trying to figure out the identity of the condom-provider: Bruce and Pepper are both sitting on the couch, still fully clothed, watching the proceeds intently. Tony feels like he should say something to them, even opens his mouth to try, but his words turn into a moan as Clint grabs his hips and presses into him.

“Oh, _yeah_ , Stark,” Clint says through clenched teeth. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He shifts positions, trying to get deeper into Tony. Without even being told, Steve and Thor grab Tony’s legs, hauling them up and back, spreading him wider — Tony has the best friends, seriously. He looks down his body, at Clint’s cock sinking into him, and moans.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Clint says, his voice mock-sophisticated but his eyes all savage, predatory. He grabs Tony’s waist and thrusts hard, and Tony’s eyes roll back in his head, because shit, that feels so good.

“You like that, huh?” Clint says, doing it again. “Of course you fucking do. Knew you were gonna like it rough.” He leans forward over Tony and starts fucking him at a breathtaking pace, and Tony grabs Clint’s wrists and holds on tight. “You weren’t expecting me to go slow, were you? Hope not, cause that’s really not my style.“ Clint’s fingers are digging into Tony’s sides, probably leaving bruises, and Tony can’t wait to see them on his skin in the morning— “I’d rather just get in there and give it you hard, ‘specially since I’ve been waiting so damn long to get up in this ass of yours—“

“You have?” Tony pants, impressed at himself for managing that much coherent speech. Oh, fuck, Clint’s dick is so fucking hard, this is just—

“Fuck yes,” Clint hisses. “But don’t let that stroke your giant ego, you arrogant sonofabitch, I don’t want to bring you fucking flowers or anything.” Steve makes an indignant noise by Tony’s ear. “Just thought you needed to be taken down a peg, and what better way than with my cock pounding into your ass?”

“No better way,” Tony babbles. “Nothing better, christ, fuck, _fuck_!” He’s gasping, overwhelmed with sensation, and he has to close his eyes for a second to calm himself down. Clint’s cursing a blue streak under his breath, his hands tightening even further on Tony’s waist, and right as he comes he leans forward and attaches his mouth to the side of Tony’s neck, kissing and licking and then biting a circle of red into Tony’s skin.

When Tony opens his eyes again, Clint’s stepped off to the side to clean himself up, and Natasha’s stroking the insides of Tony’s thighs. “You ready for me?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh my god,” Tony says. If this is the pace they’re going to keep up all night, he’s in for one hell of a ride. “Yeah, I am, do it.”

She signals Steve and Thor to let his legs down, pulling him forward and positioning his feet. “What I wouldn’t give for my spreader bar right now,” she mutters, squeezing Tony’s ankles as if she can tie them in place with her mind.

“Under the coffee table,” Pepper says from the couch. Tony can’t see her, but he can hear how breathy her voice has gotten, and that distracts him briefly from what she’s just said to Natasha — but only for a second, and when the words register, all the breath goes out of him.

“Oh, excellent,” Natasha says, leaning over and picking up the piece of equipment in question. “Tony, can I—?”

“Jesus fucking christ,” Tony replies, nodding frantically, and Natasha bends down to buckle his ankles into the cuffs.

“I’m curious, Natasha,” Bruce says. His voice sounds a little rougher than normal, but he’s still using first-person pronouns so they’re probably fine. “What’s in this for you? Given that you’re, ah, playing with borrowed equipment, so to speak.”

Natasha shrugs. “The experience, mostly. Getting to see him like this.” She waves a hand over Tony, indicating his general state of debauchery. “Also, I bought this baby nearly a month ago and haven’t had a chance to try it out yet. Figured this would be a good time to break it in.”

Tony looks down and notices the strap-on for the first time, and oh, that’s gorgeous. Pitch black, like the rest of her outfit, but thick and long and thoroughly slicked up with lube. He can’t resist whistling. Natasha looks at him intently, then moves forward quick as a flash, placing her hands on either side of Tony’s shoulders and her hips in line with his. She’s shorter than him, so at this angle her head only comes up to his chest, her breasts brushing his stomach when she leans down.

“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t have enough breath left to whistle,” she says matter-of-factly, and eases the strap-on inside him.

It’s big, but not that much bigger than Clint (who, while he might be one of the smaller guys in this room, would have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of size-wise if he weren’t up against supersoldiers and demigods), and Tony relaxes. The re-positioning Natasha did has left him with his head resting against Steve’s pelvis, and when he turns his head to the side Steve’s cock is _right there_ , blocking his field of vision, hot against his cheek. He sticks out his tongue, tries to crane his neck to reach it and lick it, and Natasha lets out a snort of laughter above him.

“Focus, Stark,” she says, and moves one of her hands to fiddle with something at the base of the dildo.

“I’m focused,“ Tony starts to say, widening his eyes in mock innocence, but then they widen even further of their own accord when the dildo starts to fucking _vibrate_. “Oh, jesus.”

“Yeah,” Natasha sighs, a hitch in her voice, and starts to move inside him. Her strokes are measured and agonizingly consistent, but the way she’s grinding her hips at the end of each one tells Tony that she’s getting the full effect of the vibration as well. She fucks him with her eyes open, biting her lip after a few minutes, and that tiny little sign of her losing control is so fucking hot, makes his dick twitch against his stomach. He arches into her strokes, and she changes her angle and _fuck_ , he _knew_ she knew right where his prostate is. He moans and lifts his hips further, until the soft cotton of her tank top is rubbing against his cock with every stroke — he’s not so good at coming untouched, needs at least a little bit of stimulation on his cock, but this’ll do just fine. He concentrates on the vibrations, and her thrusts that land exactly where he likes it, and the way she’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, and it’s good, so good—

And it stops, suddenly. “Pepper,” Natasha pants, sitting up, her hand on the controls of the strap-on, “what’s his refractory period like?”

“For fuck’s sake, I am not that old,” Tony growls, right as Pepper answers, “Good, but probably not good enough to come twice before we’re all done.”

“Noted,” Natasha says, and does something with the controls that seems to make the vibrations concentrate down on her end. She shudders, picking up her rhythm again, and it’s still so good but she’s arching her back to keep her body away from his cock and there’s no way he’s getting over the edge like this.

“I’m not that old,” Tony mutters, bracing his hands on Steve’s calves.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to wait at all,” Steve says, stroking his hair. “So unless you want me to fuck you while you’re soft…”

That actually sounds weirdly appealing to Tony right now, letting Steve take him while he’s all fucked-out and exhausted, letting him screw him back into hardness again, but he knows Steve would make him rest before he got started. “What happened to patience being a virtue?”

“I’m starting to think that being virtuous is overrated sometimes.”

“I’m a bad influence, aren’t I.”

“Yeah, you are.” Steve cups the side of Tony’s face, turns his head back to the front. “Now pay attention, please.”

Tony does, turns his gaze back to the beautiful woman fucking him oh-so-good, and rolls his hips up to meet her thrusts, pressing the end of the strap-on harder against her groin. “Fuck,” Natasha spits, throwing her head back, grinding her hips against his with shallow rocking motions. She lets out a shaky breath and turns off the vibrations, sliding smoothly out of him and sitting back on her heels, knees splayed wide.

“Not bad, Stark,” she says coolly, patting him on the thigh as she stands up. “You take it like a champ.”

“Hey, give Pepper the address of where you bought that thing, will you?” Tony asks.

“Of course.”

“Hey,” Steve pipes up, “Do you think you could undo the— the bar, thingy—“

“Spreader bar,” Natasha says, bending down to do just that.

“Spreader bar,” Steve repeats carefully, and Tony almost bursts out laughing because— well, it doesn’t really need explaining, does it? He just witnessed Captain fucking America learning the phrase ‘spreader bar.’ How is this his life, seriously? It’s too good to be true.

Natasha finishes unbuckling the cuffs from his ankles and heads over to the sofa, and Tony sits up so Steve can flip him over and pull him forward until he’s straddling Steve’s waist. Tony hisses when their cocks brush together — god, he’s so hard, if he doesn’t come soon he is seriously going to explode — but Steve kisses him thoroughly, silencing him. Steve’s not the most practiced kisser, for obvious reasons, but his kisses always feel so _honest_ , full of pure, bright desire. Tony tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair, kissing him almost lazily. When he sucks on Steve’s bottom lip, Steve moans and breaks the kiss, saying, “Condom, please, someone— no, the ones from the black box— thank you.” His hands leave Tony’s waist to fumble around behind Tony’s back, and Tony takes the opportunity to kiss Steve’s neck, his collarbone, down those gorgeous pecs. Steve moans sharply when Tony’s tongue sweeps over his nipple, and puts a hand on Tony’s hip. 

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he says matter-of-factly, even though Tony knows it’s actually more of a question than a statement. Tony lifts his hips and reaches back to grab Steve’s wrist, guide him inside.

“Oh, Tony,” Steve breathes, soft like a prayer, and trust him to want to fucking _make love_ in the middle of a gangbang. When they’ve done this before, Tony’s had to really work to make him lose control, make him just go for it with all of that coiled, unimaginable, beautiful strength, and Tony’s not sure he has the stamina for that tonight. So he lets Steve hold him close, and rock into him smooth and slow, and whisper sweetly into his ear about how it’s so good, Tony, you feel so good, I love being inside you like this, I never want it to stop.

Tony buries his face in Steve’s neck, riding him deep and slow and amazing, until a cut-off gasp from the couch makes him look up. Clint and Natasha have moved up there now, both slumped bonelessly against the cushions, and next to them is Pepper, face flushed, hands fisted together in her lap but otherwise looking perfectly calm and collected. Bruce, though… 

Holy fuck. Bruce is panting quietly, hair sticking to his sweat-streaked forehead, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. He’s got his pants open, and is fisting his dick with long strokes, timing them with Steve’s thrusts. Tony moans, his dick jerking against Steve’s stomach.

“Bruce,” he breathes, and the rest of the team freezes, including Bruce himself. “It’s fine, guys, we’re fine,” Tony says, annoyed, and thankfully Steve goes back to thrusting, planting soft kisses on Tony’s chest. “Dude, you sure you don’t want in on this?”

Bruce licks his lips. “I’m not sure of that at all, actually,” he says. His voice is rough but still totally even, for all that he looks like he walked straight out of one of Tony’s wet dreams. “Maybe I could, if you just—“ he looks pointedly at Tony’s hands, tangled in Steve’s hair.

“Definitely,” Tony says. “Get over here,” and Bruce is off the couch in a second, settling himself on a cushion near Steve’s head and shoving his pants and underwear down around his ankles. Tony shifts his weight, propping himself up on one elbow just above Steve’s shoulder, and strokes Bruce’s thigh with his free hand.

Before he reaches for Bruce’s cock, he nods towards the far side of the room. “Hey,” he says. “See the big bay window over there? Leads right out to the back yard — forty acres of space, and there’s a twenty-foot wall around the whole thing. It turns out you need an emergency exit…”

“I’ll go that way,” Bruce says, nodding. “It shouldn’t be necessary — I’m doing just fine right now — but don’t do anything too surprising, okay?”

“You want me to talk you through it?” Tony asks, and Bruce sucks in a breath.

“That would work, yeah.”

Tony smiles, and moves his hand slowly over to wrap it around Bruce’s cock. “I’m just gonna stroke you,” he says softly, and Bruce and Steve shudder in unison. “How do you like it, slow like this?”

“Yeah,” Bruce says. “That’s good.”

“You like long strokes?” Tony asks, trying them out. “Or short ones, just right at the head?”

“Short,” Bruce says, nearly choking on the word.

“Short it is, then. How about a little twist— yeah, you like that, I can tell. I’m gonna keep going like this for a while.” Underneath Tony, Steve is panting, his hands cupping Tony’s ass, squeezing every few strokes. It’s a constant, slow burn of sensation, filling Tony up and making his skin overheat, making him want to grab his own dick and stroke himself until it all boils over. For now, though, he keeps his hands on Bruce. 

Tony’s voice is a hoarse whisper, now, he’s not sure how Bruce can hear him over Steve’s labored breathing, but Bruce is staring right at him, apparently hanging on every word. “Jesus, look at all that pre-come — I’m gonna run my thumb over the head of your cock, Bruce, spread it around—“ he does, and Bruce cries out, making everyone else in the room start. Tony doesn’t miss a beat — that was clearly Bruce yelling, not anybody else, can’t a guy be a little noisy in bed without everyone thinking he’s going to rip the place apart? “Yeah, that’s gorgeous.” He levers himself up, putting his elbow on Steve’s chest so he can use both hands. “I’m going to touch your balls now,” and he does, rolling them in his palm, stroking them with his fingers, never letting the rhythm of his other hand falter.

“Just a little more,” Bruce pants. “Ah— _Tony_ —”

“That’s good, that’s perfect,” Tony says as Bruce shudders and comes all over Tony’s hand. Some of it shoots far enough to land in Steve’s hair, though Steve doesn’t seem to notice. Tony wipes it away without thinking, licking it off his fingers. Bruce lets out a huge sigh, then leans down carefully, tipping Tony’s head up with two fingers to kiss him.

“Eight out of eight,” he murmurs into Tony’s mouth.

“Send me the spreadsheet anyway, I want the detailed breakdown,” Tony says as Bruce gets up and heads back to the couch.

“Hi,” says Steve, squeezing Tony’s ass insistently. “Remember me?”

“How could I forget,” Tony says, and sinks back down against Steve’s chest to kiss him deeply. Steve sighs into his mouth and picks up the pace a bit, pulling Tony’s hips down against him with every stroke. Tony can’t help himself anymore, he has to touch his cock, it’s become a fucking biological imperative. He slips a hand down between his body and Steve’s and wraps a hand around himself, not even moving it at this point, because if he does things are going to get very messy.

“Hey,” Steve says, his thrusts slowing, then stopping. Tony lets out a sob and starts to move his hand, but Steve grabs his wrist, holds him still.

“I’m fine, I’m under control,” Tony gasps, clearly neither of those things. “Fuck, Steve, just, I have to touch myself, I can do it without coming, I swear.”

“Thor’s still waiting,” Steve reminds him.

“I _know_ , I’ve got this, just _move_.”

“If you’re sure.” Steve starts thrusting again, then stops when Tony moans raggedly. “Actually, let’s change things up a bit.”

Tony is not pouting, he’s _not_ , but he doesn’t understand why Steve won’t just _move_ already. Steve’s hands move from Tony’s ass to his biceps, and he lifts Tony up and back, shifting his angle until Tony is almost sitting on his dick, hovering just on the last inch.

“Steve, if you don’t put your cock back in me in the next second I am going to fucking kill you,” Tony says, probably too loudly but he doesn’t fucking care.

“That’s not nice, Tony,” Steve says, and lets go of Tony’s arms. Tony’s head falls back as gravity pulls him all the way down, at least an inch deeper than Steve had been fucking him before, and it’s exactly what he needs. Steve still isn’t _moving_ , so Tony plants his feet and braces his arms on Steve’s thighs, lifts himself up and sinks back down. His leg muscles are starting to burn, and nothing’s touching his cock but cool air, and Steve is just fucking staring at him with half-lidded eyes, looking like sex personified.

“You gonna make me do all the work here, Cap?” Tony says, low and rough, and grins when Steve’s hips jerk. Tony was ecstatic when he discovered that this is a kink for Steve, that he gets off on being called Captain. He wasn’t sure whether he should go there tonight, not with the rest of the team around, could make it kind of awkward next time they’re all on comm — but god, he _needs_ Steve to fuck him, so it’s time to pull out all the stops. “Come on, Captain, you’re in charge, right, give me some _direction_ —“

Steve shudders violently and grabs Tony’s hips, and now they’re getting somewhere. “Don’t come,” Steve says.

“Is that an order?” Tony asks.

Steve _growls_ and slams up into him, and Tony shouts at the ceiling, throwing his head back and riding Steve for all he’s worth. Tony has kind of a tenuous relationship with gravity, tends to spend a lot of time defying it in various ways, and tonight is no exception because Steve’s thrusts are making him _float_ , his feet are barely touching the mattress anymore, and he’s not getting all the way down onto Steve’s cock but it doesn’t matter because he knows Steve always just fucks him with the tip when he’s getting really, really close. On the next stroke Tony tightens himself around Steve and Steve arches, holding Tony still above him and giving him a few last shuddering strokes as he comes. Then all the tension goes out of his body, and he collapses back onto the mattress, pulling Tony into a careful embrace.

Even after not being touched for a while, Tony’s cock is twitching, dribbling pre-come everywhere and so hard it actually kind of hurts. He winces when it brushes against Steve’s stomach, and rolls away as soon as Steve lets him go.

“All right, Lightning Rod, you’re up,” he says, pushing himself shakily onto his hands and knees. The last time he’d paid any attention to Thor the guy had still been half-dressed, but Tony thinks that situation has probably changed by now, turns his head just to check, and _oh_. _Fuck_.

“Could you maybe put some more lube on that for me, buddy?” he asks, his mouth suddenly very dry.

Thor just grins at him. “As you wish,” he says, and empties a quarter of the bottle onto his cock.

Tony appreciates that, and the gentleness with which Thor positions himself behind Tony and spreads his cheeks, but no matter how much preparation Thor gives him he’s still going to be walking funny for a week. Thor’s cock just goes on forever, filling him up more than he would have thought possible, and just when he’s sure he’s about to feel the fucking tip in the back of his throat Thor stops. He holds himself perfectly still for a moment, bending down to kiss the back of Tony’s neck, his hair tickling Tony’s shoulder blades.

“You Midgardians are so fragile,” Thor murmurs into Tony’s shoulder. “Mighty, yes, but delicate as well. I do not wish to hurt you.”

Tony’s doing a lot better now that he’s had a few seconds to adjust, his body relaxing by stages, but he’s still too hard and way overstimulated, and while it all feels good it hurts a bit, too, the sheer amount of pleasure pushing the limit of what his senses can handle. Thor could break him, if he’s not careful. “Just go slow,” he says. “Slow works for you, right?”

“It will serve,” Thor says, starting to do just that. Tony fists his hands in the sheets, biting back a scream. “Indeed, I have been pleasuring myself all the while, watching the others take you, and I fear I may not last long.”

“Join the club,” Tony gasps. Thor’s going slowly, yeah, but he’s also not pulling all the way out, probably because it would take like a million years at this rate. Instead, he’s staying mostly inside Tony, just the last few inches of his dick fucking in and out. Tony’s never felt so filled, and just to make matters worse every stroke rubs against his prostate (mostly because there is absolutely no part of Tony’s insides that every stroke is _not_ rubbing against). It’s too good, period, and Tony can’t handle it anymore, needs to come like he needs to breathe. He grabs a pillow from in front of him and drops his head onto it, bites it, might actually blink back a few tears.

And then the pillow is gone and Pepper is there, perfect, amazing Pepper, sliding in underneath him and cupping his face in her hands. Tony notices absently that her clothes are gone, but what he mostly notices is her eyes, which are searching and a little bit concerned.

“Hey,” she says softly, brushing his sweat-streaked hair off of his forehead. “You doing okay? You remember the safeword, right? It’s our usual one.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, taking measured, regular breaths. “I don’t need it, I’m good. It’s just— a lot, it’s a whole fucking lot.”

“I know, and you’re doing so well, Tony, you’re amazing.”

Tony gasps out a laugh — “Damn straight” — and then Thor groans and thrusts a tiny bit faster, and he moans into Pepper’s neck.

She strokes his hair. “You want to come, don’t you?” she asks, and Tony nods frantically against her shoulder.

“Wish I could wait for you to have a turn first, though,” he says, his voice ragged. He manages to balance himself on one hand, and strokes the other up the inside of her leg. “Did you—?”

“Twice,” she says, shifting her hips so he can feel how wet she is. “Once during Bruce, and then when you were with Steve— you were so gorgeous, Tony, riding him like that, I want to ride you like that sometime—”

“ _Please_ ,” Tony croaks. “Enough with the dirty talk, please just make me come—“

“Whatever you want,” she whispers in his ear, and reaches down to stroke his cock. Tony _screams_ , hips jerking wildly, and all it takes is that one touch before he’s coming so hard the world goes bright white. His arms give out, but Pepper is there beneath him, holding him against her, keeping him in one piece. Behind him, Thor moans loudly, and his thrusts get even shallower, his rhythm turning erratic. On his final stroke he slams in hard enough to make Tony see stars, then slides out and flops down on the mattress next to them, looking utterly boneless. As soon as Thor lets go of Tony’s hips, he collapses against Pepper, and when her thigh brushes against his cock Tony shudders and somehow comes _again_ , or at least more, spilling himself out onto Pepper’s pale skin.

Tony just breathes, for a second, trying to pull together some of the fragments of rational thought that are whirling around his head like leaves scattered by a storm. Finally he manages, “You were wrong about my refractory period,” although between his exhaustion and the way his face is squished against Pepper’s neck it comes out more like “rfrrrty prrd.”

“What?” Pepper asks.

“My refractory period,” he says, trying again. His throat is actually sore from screaming so loud, jesus. “You thought I couldn’t come twice.”

“Is that seriously what you’re thinking about right now?” Pepper’s shoulders are shaking with laughter.

“I have to defend my reputation,” he explains. “Can’t have people thinking I’m no good in bed.”

“Absolutely nobody thinks that, Tony,” Steve says, sliding down off the couch to lay next to them.

“Certainly nobody in a ten-mile radius who heard you scream,” Clint adds. He stays on the couch, but stretches out to take over Steve’s spot.

“Soundproofed walls,” Tony points out.

“And the bigass window?”

“Looks out on forty acres of nothing.”

“I’ll sell my story to the tabloids, then, that’ll give you a reputation—”

“Enough arguing, boys,” Pepper says, who never finds jokes about PR disasters particularly funny when they're made by anyone who isn't her. She carefully slips out from under Tony, rolling him into Steve’s warm, oh-so-comfortable arms, and walks naked over to the other side of the room. Tony catches a glimpse of her bending over to get something out of the mini-fridge, and if he hadn’t just used up a week’s worth of sex drive he would really be enjoying that view.

She comes back with an armful of water bottles, and Tony gulps one down gratefully. He takes stock of the situation: bruises on his hips, hickey on the side of his neck, legs feel like rubber, ass thoroughly pounded. He’s probably going to be one big ache in the morning. 

Until then, though, this mattress is really incredibly comfortable, even if the sheets are kind of sticky, and Steve is a solid block of warmth at his back. “All right, ‘m going to sleep,” Tony announces. “Thanks for coming, everybody, haha, no pun intended. JARVIS, no sunlight in the morning. Just turn it off.”

“I will increase the opacity of the windows as needed, sir.”

“Is this turning into a sleepover?” Natasha asks from the couch.

“Looks like it,” Bruce says.

“Fine by me,” Steve murmurs into Tony’s hair.

“Tony, at least let me change the sheets before you fall asleep,” Pepper says, bemused.

“Nope,” Tony says, reaching up and grabbing for her hand. “No point, I’m all sweaty and gross anyway. And even if I moved, how are you gonna get this guy off the mattress?” Beside him, Thor snores softly. “You’re not, right?”

“I’m not,” Pepper agrees, lies down beside him gracefully. “If anyone needs a blanket they’re behind the couch, grab yourself one. I am officially done being a hostess for the night.” She snuggles forward against Tony, taking over half of his pillow. Tony snaps his fingers and JARVIS turns off the lights.

Up above him Tony can hear Clint and Natasha moving around on the couch, getting comfortable, or possibly rigging a few booby traps so nobody can sneak up on them while they sleep; they settle down pretty quickly. The room is totally still for a minute until the mattress shifts a little, and Tony raises his head to see Bruce stretching out next to Pepper, his hand hovering just above her waist for a moment until she realizes it’s there and grabs it, pulling him up until their bodies are fitted snugly together. Tony’s brain whirs: invited Bruce despite the risks + came for the first time while I was getting him off + spooning naked = they should talk about having Bruce over some other time, like maybe on Pepper’s birthday. When was that? August? September? He’d ask JARVIS in the morning. He reaches out a few inches and brushes a finger across Pepper’s cheek. She opens her eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Happy birthday, Tony,” she whispers, and he falls asleep with her breath on his lips.


End file.
